


Don't Turn Away

by starrylitme



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Brother Complex, Conflicted Hinata, Consensual But Dubious, Established Relationship, Inferiority Complex, M/M, Not Happy, Sibling Incest, Threesome - M/M/M, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 09:47:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2305358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrylitme/pseuds/starrylitme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A verse where Hinata, Kamukura, and Komaeda are in a mutually agreed three-way. Also those first two happen to be siblings. In fact, Hinata's complex with Kamukura might be having a negative effect on him and this polyamorous relationship. And maybe on Komaeda, who's more caught between the two than he means to be.</p>
<p>But there's only so much Hinata can do about it when he's keeping all this bottled inside, letting the bitterness and negativity overtake him... You do know that, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Turn Away

**Author's Note:**

> Written six months ago. I literally just got bored one day and decided to upload this and Naezono smut. I shortened the bullshit title from what it was on Tumblr though! Hooray!
> 
> Anyway, believe it or not, this was more par the course for my writing at the time if you've seen my Hetalia stuff. Liberties are taken, so characterization is definitely off.
> 
> I don't know if I'm ever going to return from this verse but in the very least it's interesting. At least I think so.
> 
> I wonder if my writing's gotten better or worse.
> 
> (Also...Is this arrangement better or worse than TGC? :/ Man I don't even know. Probably?)

The light’s dim, and he has to blink repeatedly a few times before his eyes can focus. But when his ears recognize the soft sigh floating through the cold air, there’s an unpleasant curl in his stomach.

Those hands are gentle, one brushing through white strands and the other pushing up a white shirt. They’re kissing, mouths connected perfectly with only the slightest hint of movement between their lips. Then one of them gently moves to press into a pale neck, no doubt placing another kiss as the other purrs against him.

Then Nagito’s clouded eyes open and flicker towards Hinata’s still form in the doorway.

He smiles, angelic and flushed, and Izuru pulls him closer with nary a sound. There’s no greeting, no vocal acknowledgement, but Hinata’s perceptive enough— _barely enough_ —to recognize an invitation to join from the widening of those doe eyes to the twist of that innocent grin.

But Hinata only focuses on the way Izuru touches his lover— ** _his_** _lover_ —with him stroking white messy strands, finger only gingerly pressing into his back, and his unseen face— _curtained by that long, black hair_ —still buried in the crook of his neck. Nagito arches with a moan, but Izuru doesn’t change his position in the slightest because he’s just so _comfortable_.

That cloudy green gaze is momentarily off Hinata, so Nagito doesn’t see how the brunet’s shaking hands clench into fists and how his lips tighten until his teeth grate.

Nagito does, however, hear the door slam shut with such force it makes him flinch.

“...Hinata-kun?” he wonders worriedly, turning blindly to the shut door, and Izuru briefly stills. Nagito doesn’t squirm, but he trembles just the slightest bit. As if there was some otherwise unknown chill. “ _Hinata-kun_...?”

Izuru simply and wordlessly pulls him into another kiss.

* * *

Hinata avoids them at first, even if the avoidance is childish and ridiculous.

It’s surprisingly not that hard, though not certainly because of his twin since said twin always had a habit of disappearing when the hell ever he felt like. It’s surprising, because _Nagito_ wasn’t normally that elusive and all of a sudden he _was_.

It’s surprising, but it’s what he wants so he doesn’t complain. He does, however, fume with his thoughts all the same.

A life together. A year together.

Izuru never reacted under _him_. Barely even twitched under _his_ touch. No matter what _he_ did, _he_ never could get those red, red eyes to pierce into him with anything but indifference. Stare with _anything_ but boredom.

But Nagito had always been soft, _hadn’t he_ , soft and _supple_ and so very _subservient_ to one’s desires. For someone who claimed to be a waste of space, he was so very _receptive_.

It pissed him off more than he could fully comprehend and really, that should have been the part where he just gave up. Really, he would have if he hadn’t been boiling. Later, when the anger’s cooled and pain remains, perhaps, but now...

He’s too furious to think straight. His mind is stuck on Izuru—that baffling _beautiful_ brother of his who treated Komaeda Nagito like a fragile treasure.

* * *

“Hinata-kun.” Komaeda’s bright face is fallen and Hinata curses the other’s luck for just so happening to already be home on the day he gets off early. Komaeda shrinks a bit— _good luck, bad luck, which is it_ —and Hinata’s sharp stare narrows. “Shall I make something? What do you want?”

He doesn’t want to hurt him, but he does want to _hurt_ him. Hinata doesn’t trust himself and runs his hands through his hair. “I’m not hungry, Nagito.”

“I see.” There’s a beat where Komaeda averts his gaze, mousy and aggravatingly anxious. “Are you sure?”

Hinata doesn’t trust himself so he just gives him a look. Komaeda clams up immediately and just sits down, shuts down.

This is supposed to be the part where Hinata walks past him to his room, but instead he lingers—his flickering glare scanning the frail, immobile form on his couch.

Komaeda’s hands are clasped together, his fingers bony with jutting out wrists. His head is low, white fringe hanging over his features with only their pink tints for color. Slim shoulders, a prominent collarbone, the blue of his veins, and for now, he couldn’t see the other’s eyes.

So soft. So easy to break. Izuru treated this body like it was some kind of treasure. Izuru, who never once looked at him like he was anything, _treasured_ this body.

Hinata’s fingers twitch and he feels like the kind of spoiled brat that would break their sibling’s toys to get attention. But this is Komaeda, who _has_ to be treated like glass, and he’s...

... _he’s_?

Hinata blinks, and without warning, he shoves him down. Komaeda flinches and looks at him wildly for only a moment before calming. Clamming up before he says anything— _protests_ anything. Hinata crawls over him all the same, and his heart is pounding as he looks into Komaeda’s flushed, wide-eyed stare.

Aside from Izuru, Komaeda’s the only person he’s ever kissed, ever really touched. He doesn’t know, however, if anyone besides him or Izuru has ever touched Komaeda. But with how pleasantly Komaeda squirms, and how sweetly he moans when Hinata nips at his jaw with that fair faint smile on his pretty face...

“I love you dearly, Hinata-kun,” he murmurs honestly, sincerely, and it’s the only thing he says during any of this. Hinata only grunts in response, but his heart hurts and he wonders if Komaeda’s confession to Izuru’s ears must sound that much more gratifying.

But Izuru doesn’t show up, not when Hinata parts his legs and runs his hands up those tender inner thighs. Nor when Hinata fucks him, fingers tangled almost painfully in messy white strands and Komaeda nearly sobbing as he kisses a blossoming bruise on his throat.

Komaeda drools against his shoulder, and it’s gross— _disgusting_ , but Hinata only holds him tighter in a world that seems closing in on him.

* * *

When they’re done, Komaeda’s smile fades again and Hinata can barely look at him. Shame and envy threaten to strangle him if he dares make a comment.

Komaeda doesn’t say anything at first either— _mercifully?_ **cruelly** _? he isn’t sure_ —and only fingers at his bruises, traces the faint lines Hinata’s digits dragged down his skin. Izuru doesn’t leave marks. Not even shadows of marks.

Hinata can’t look at him as he redresses.

“ _Oh Hinata-kun_ ,” Komaeda only sighs as he buttons up his shirt. He can feel the other shift, and he still doesn’t look. “This really was a bad idea, wasn’t it?”

He doesn’t answer. Komaeda could be referring to anything, but there’s still dread lacing his gut as he fumbles with the last button. By the time Komaeda finally gathers the clothes Hinata strewn around, he’s already up to his feet and heading to his room.

Komaeda might have asked again about food, but Hinata didn’t answer and he really _wasn’t_ hungry.

It’s for the best. Komaeda’s just going to prepare whatever Izuru wants without any other distraction, and that bright smile of his is sure to return in the meantime. But perhaps it’ll fade again when he sees whatever face Izuru’s going to make at the splotchy mark Hinata made on that pale, pretty throat.

It’s a childish, vindictive concern, but Hinata entertains it while twisting the image of their shared lover vulnerable in his arms.

It doesn’t sicken him as much as it should. And it should, it really, really should.

* * *

“Hajime?” There’s only a slight lilt signifying a question. Otherwise it’s monotonous. Dull. Especially when saying his name.

Hinata doesn’t flinch, only returns Izuru’s dull stare evenly. Expectantly. But he isn’t sure what for just yet. Maybe something— _anything_ other than this tedium.

Izuru’s hair is tied up, he notices, and it’s a messy, unflattering job on him. Komaeda probably did it, and Hinata can picture him stressing over the sleek black strands with trembling hands...just like he did every now and then when his twin gave _him_ that _privilege_.

“The atmosphere has been a bit different recently,” Izuru finally comments, and Hinata’s somewhat proud he didn’t waver as his brother’s gaze became less focused. He looked away, slowly, eyes tracing the folds of the sheets where the elder sat. “It seems to be getting to Nagito as well...”

Hinata huffs, crossing his legs and folding his arms. His eyes don’t leave Izuru, even as the other’s wander and it _irritates_ him like pricks in his nape. “If you’re _worried_ , you should just say that outright.”

“You always did prefer straight-forward honesty... As expected of you.” Izuru sighs a bit, and it’s a bit too soft. But Izuru looks at him finally, though it doesn’t feel that much different. “Is this due to the atmosphere or something else?”

It would have been foolish to think it’d be that much different.

“This being...?” Hinata asks, even though he knows and at this point he’s just being childish. But it’s irritating, that even when Izuru comes to him—for _any_ reason—even when he comes, he’s still looking _down_ on him. But that’s to be expected—isn’t it **_isn’t_** _it_... “How _is_ Nagito anyway? Is he still a little sore?”

Izuru doesn’t react initially, and he feels like he’s going to be sick.

_How disgusting._

But he might as well dig his heels in a bit deeper.

“Nagito’s not going to come in here, is he?” he says it more than questions it and before he knows it, he’s standing and reaching for Izuru. Izuru’s jaw is unyielding under his fingertips. “He’s not as enthusiastic about this arrangement as he used to be... Then again, he was probably the only one in the beginning...”

“Hm.” Izuru grunts and tilts his head a bit towards him. Stiff. It infuriates him but he’s not going to dare harm him. “I suppose. But isn’t a bit late for that?”

_Disappointment_. He winces but still clings.

“Hajime...” Izuru only murmurs as he leans in for a kiss. Delicate, chaste, and sickeningly desperate. Izuru lets him pull at his lips—lets him swipe his tongue messily and inelegantly over the seam of his smooth mouth. But that’s all he ever does. Izuru doesn’t even say his name anymore.

Hinata shakes a bit as he pulls back, lips slick with his own saliva. “Izuru...”

**_I feel like I’m going to be sick._ **

“Nagito’s waiting,” Izuru reminds him—neither kindly nor unkindly. Just the indifferent, looming fact. But there’s still something about the _way_ he says Komaeda’s given name. “Are you going to eat with us or not?”

“I’ll eat with you.” He responds before he can think twice. He’s not hungry. He feels sick. But it’s either this or being alone. “And then...”

Hinata trails off, but the blush on his face is shamefully apparent. Izuru doesn’t even have to guess.

“If that’s what you want.” His twin says and in that moment, Hinata swears that it is.

* * *

At first, Nagito is quiet. Quieter than he thought possible, but he’s soft between the two of them. But it might be for the best, with Nagito buried in Izuru’s shoulder as Hinata tucked a raven strand behind his brother's ear.

Hinata kisses him, and he only feels Nagito tremble a bit as Izuru _lets_ him. His chin digs into a pale shoulder, his arms wrapping around the body in between them but his eyes remain on Izuru, even when his mouth parts from the other’s.

The only time his gaze flickers is when he notices one of Izuru’s hands move from Nagito’s hip to the soft swell of his thigh. Tenderly. With Nagito also yielding in Hinata’s grasp. With those white strands tickling Hinata’s cheek as he pulls him closer, pulls himself closer to Izuru.

_Desperate._ He reminds himself. _It’s why I’m here._

It’s why he forces himself to watch Izuru’s hand trail back up Nagito’s thigh—over his hip again and then cup over the curve of his rump in what little space there is between there and Hinata’s groin.

Hinata shudders and Nagito barely squirms. Izuru’s hand remains delicate, but when he gives a squeeze, Hinata’s stare rushes to meet his eyes again. But that’s a foolish notion because with Nagito there, there’s no way Izuru would be...

Izuru’s stare is hard and familiar, but the way he pulls in Nagito, almost tugging against his own grip...it’s different. Hinata almost wants to scream something—maybe a question for _why this is **why he’s even here**._..

_It’s because I’m desperate. I don’t know why. I’m sick._

Izuru’s whispering something to Nagito, and despite the closeness, Hinata can’t hear them. His mind’s too clouded, his thoughts too agitated.

_I’m sick. **I’m sick.**_

Nagito unburies his face, and Hinata only sees a mop of messy white—not his features. But he sees Nagito nod, kiss Izuru, and then somehow turn around so that he’s facing Hinata instead.

His eyes look an almost milky gray and he can’t see the green, but Nagito still gives him a smile... And though Hinata doesn’t want to be, not really, he’s immediately stuck.

“ _Hinata-kun_ ,” Nagito sighs his surname the way Izuru never will his given name. Hinata’s captivated against his will, and Nagito cups his face like he’s something precious. “I really do love you.”

His hands remain on Nagito’s shoulder blades, but he doesn’t pull the other close. He does tilt his head right when they kiss, for what it’s worth. Nagito tastes sweet, he’s different...

**_I feel sick._ **

Before he knows it, he’s flat on his back, Nagito panting against him, and Izuru fucking the other right on top of him. Hinata’s heart is pounding, his stomach is churning, but he’s still sexually responding to Nagito’s warm, writhing body against his and the pleased, pretty sounds he makes.

Sometimes, he can make out Izuru’s low groans and purrs. Hard to find but easy to latch onto. It’s around there Hinata closes his eyes.

But then Nagito  _squeals_ out Izuru’s name, just as the two brothers reach their peak. Hinata’s eyes shoot open wide as Nagito slumps against him despite the stickiness between them. Despite how there’s still white dripping from his entrance as Izuru pulls out with a grunt.

Hinata’s mind and heart are still racing, but when he dares to glance up, he sees Izuru tenderly stroking back Nagito’s hair. He tucks white strands delicately behind his ear as Nagito rests, drools against Hinata’s shoulder. It’s _gross_. But Izuru doesn’t seem to care and just wipes it away from the corner of his lips.

Nagito’s not even heavy, and even though Hinata would think his body would be uncomfortable to sleep on, he doesn’t seem to care either way. Izuru doesn’t even look at Hinata though—his eyes are all on the way Nagito’s eyelashes flutter and his fingers continue to trace his curls.

Hinata trembles— _but is this sadness or anger?_ —however in the end he just goes limp like Nagito does and shuts his eyes. He doesn’t move again and he doesn’t feel like moving.

But nothing stops him from flinching just a bit— ** _just the slightest_** —when Izuru leans down and kisses Nagito’s forehead, that long black hair the only thing of his brother even slightly brushing against him. In the morning, he might just throw up after all.

But for now, he just lets himself fall.


End file.
